Better, Faster, Stronger
by Anceylee Star
Summary: Pre 07 Movie: The High Lord Protector's Army is finished: Behind him, a trail of Destruction has formed. In the aftermath: It becomes a matter of surviving for just a while longer. Yet this new armada is Better, Faster, and Stronger. Under Working Title


**Summary:** (Pre-2007 Movie) Cybertron's High Lord Protector has finished growing his army quietly- Life on the sentient planet will not be the same. Several transformers have been caught by surprise, left in the trail of destruction, now it is the struggle to stay alive.

**Reasons for Rating: **T for lottsa robotic violence, action, nasty moments, scary things. Just really a lot of safety, and I don't want to give it a K+ rating... Nah, T feels more suitable for these situations.

**Disclaimer:** Obviously, I don't own Transformers along with anything Hasbro owns. I do own some original characters in here, so they're mine, but based upon the works of the people who created Transformers.

Wow, I have not even touched my own account and written something new in a long time. But I got a HUGE plot bunny watching Transformers the movie. And this is based at the very beginning of the war described in the movie. Extensive Author's Notes at the bottom. I must say: I've created a lot of Original Characters, but I promise at least a few cameo appearances if not plot involvement with canon G1 characters, maybe some from other series, too.

* * *

BOOM. 

The ground beneath the sentient automaton shook with such strength; it nearly toppled over the small transformer and sent some of his precious materials clattering to the floor. The once bright lights of the structure's internals flickered and died, plummeting the windowless space in to black. His sensors switched spectrum to allow him to look around. Several delicate containers had fallen over, shattering and spilling non-volatile chemicals over the slick metal floors.

Emergency lighting and power returned after a moment, and his three optics flickered with a quick readjustment, but the first boom was followed again by another, and again the lights fell out. Now it became enough to alert his systems of an impending problem. There were mechs in this building that were currently dependent on the energy systems.

Quickly, the 12 foot high Cybertronian tapped into his internal relay system, sending out a private message to one of his subordinates.

"Shroud?" he chirped over the line quickly.

_"Shroud responding, yes, Pipestream?"_ returned his younger apprentice.

"Meet me in corridor 14, we'll investigate the problem, are there energy failures in the section you're in?"

_"Yes, sir. The lights have failed completely. Demispin is restoring power to the facilities in the Intensive Care Unit, it might take some time,"_ came the stoic reply.

Pipestream cursed inwardly, "Just- We'll meet in the aforementioned corridor."

_"Yes, sir."_

Indeed, almost all of the lights were gone from the building, casting dark shadows in the clean, stark environment. This was a facility well-known in this district of Cybertron, where new mechs were built and old ones cared for, from the occasional industrial accident to fights resulting from an over-energized slagger who decided to test his guns against an equally over-energized slagger. Pipestream moved with such quick pace, he felt gears hiss in his legs with such movement. It'd been some time since he'd moved like this.

He came to corridor 14, now hearing more of the commotion that went on outside, more and more bangs, and a roar… No, it was not a noise that a Transformer would make, it was loud, yet almost purred, and would not stop.

"Shroud," He barked sharply, waiting for a reply, and he was quickly joined by a taller, green-armored, and extremely limber Cybertronian, a full 7 feet taller, but many mechs were, yet he was his junior by over 6 millennium, "Have you been outside of the structure?"

A moment of confusion, and odd question, "No. Why?"

Again, something struck Pipestream's susceptible sensors, he eyed the nearest door, down only a few corridors straight before them, wordlessly, he moved toward the door, which lead out into the open streets, though one of the less-used. His assistant in a befuddled state of CPU, followed quickly, it took little to catch up with him.

A flurry of spindly fingers tapped the access panel beside the doorway, and it slid open with ease. Crackles and the same, strong low purr were accented by the rat-tat-tat-tat of gunfire. Gunfire? He'd never heard such an intense battle before. Blasts and explosions followed, it was dark on this side, an alley, but flickering red flames bounced over their armor. The purr he had heard was the roar of the overwhelming fire.

Pipestream turned his ornate helm; optic coverings flickered in surprise at a sudden burst of smoke nearby. He stepped into the alley-way, cautious, tailed by Shroud.

The bright red grew larger, and it was even worse then he had feared. The street was pocked with gun fire, smoke clouded over most of the sky, whole buildings reduced to piles of unsightly rubble. It was... horrific. The scariest? Not a single spark even roamed the streets.

"Send out an emergency message on as many channels as possible- see if anyone is even left. Tell them to contact our radios, especially if they're in danger." Pipestream commanded, at the least, he would try to remain as calm as he could.

"Done," Shroud replied, not a moment later.

1… 2… 3 nano-clicks, and a message returned.

_"This is-"_ it was overlapped by another message, _"-Tracks responding-"_ and suddenly, a flood of voices filled their senses, enough to make them visibly flinch.

_"Please! Help- Breakdown-"_

_"I have 2 injured- "_

_"He ran into the fla-"_

_"There's seeker bots o-"_

_"THEY CAUGHT-"_

_"Primus-"_

Shroud's armor rippled in terror, as the senior doctor shook his head, optics wide and in disbelief.

"What should we do?" Shroud looked out into the dark smoke, and Pipestream only spared him a glance, and shut down his internal receiver, finally unable to take it as a metallic scream rang through his head.

"I'm going to contact Windkill; you try and find a coherent message, get as many medics out of the building to find the injured, tell everyone to take cover. All we _can _do is try and save the sparks we can and… maybe counterattack."

Shroud's facial features turned to shock, which did not surprise his creator, the younger had never so much as lifted a weapon.

"What- Well, _who_ could cause this?"

Truthfully, neither knew, and Pipestream uttered not even a semblance of a reply as he stepped into the Pit on Cybertron.

* * *

"Windkill- this is Pipestream." 

A moment for a reply, _"Pipestream?"_ said a voice one the other end of the private line, _"Are you alright?"_

"If I weren't, would I be so calm?" a humorously seething reply snapped, a bit too dark in tone for comfort, "What is your location? Do you know what happened?"

_"… Rogue Transformers, I think. They swooped in overhead, perhaps only ten, lead by a group of three. They're all seekers, and they're… well… destroying everything."_

"I'll try to find your coordinates, we need to send an evacuation order." Pipestream told the unspoken district leader with a calm only created from years of work in stressful conditions. He kept close to the walls, and jumped as the building, HIS building, smoldered on the higher levels, an explosion had taken place, and now uncontrolled fire twirled from the roof.

_"What happened?"_ Windkill asked with well-placed concern.

Pipestream was in abject horror and overall, shock, "Nothing." He replied weakly, strain in his voice, "Just… exploding building." He gave a nervous chuckle, silently hoping to Primus no one was up there at that moment. Mandeta plates clenched together, his CPU was still rather unsure how to process that.

Windkill had paused on the other end of the line, _"Pipestream."_

"Y-yes?"

_"… Walk safely, keep your optics open."_

Pipestream continued to follow the wall, "Indeed."

* * *

Shroud moved as quietly as he could, walking down one of the wider streets of the sector, only comforted by his small defenses, an old-fashioned weapon built into his arm, along with the concoctions of chemicals he had stored into his right forearm. Yet he had neither out, for one thing, he'd hate to shoot someone who only caught him by surprise, he could summon either up quickly enough… he thought. 

He was still trying to sort through all of the messages, the dark smoke and the smell of the chemical explosion was so thick, it was hard to sense anything. But it was hard to concentrate, or even tell who had sent the messages. With a noise of exasperation, he tapped back into his radio signal.

"Attention- Medical personal available in sector 56-4, anyone nearby in need of assistance respond." Shroud concentrated on sending out the best message he could, hoping he could salvage at least one Cybertronian from the carnage. Several buildings had already collapsed, debris had fallen, and it was hard to see past anything 200 feet away.

His channel was silent, and suddenly, "Oh, I need help," there was a tone only described as sarcasm present, "But definitely not as much as YOU will need!"

Shrieking, electronic garble came through: maniacal laughter. Shroud traced the signal- it was from high overhead. His sensors went into overdrive, finding the entity was above the smoke, above the buildings. _Oh, by the pit._

His left arm shifted mass, he turned, aiming a newly formed weapon high into the air, straining to find the direction in which to shoot. Within seconds, he found one, and began to fire. It was not at all a strong weapon, and the young medic began to shift backward, realizing every shoot he fired was being excellently dodged.

In return, a rain of bright plasma rounds fell from the thick clouds, followed by the alien jet. He almost jumped backwards, his near-white optics watching his enemy, and without a battle system, it took him all his worth to avoid the burning plasma. He could not outrun him; Shroud scrambled through his memory circuits, finding a more appropriate form. His form shifted, armor moving, limbs changed, and transformed into a three-wheeled ground vehicle, He was already in the sight and sensors of the enemy, and he would not be able to hide.

Never in his existence, had he ever felt his spark quiver in such fright.

* * *

Pipestream continued to move quickly in bipedal form, avoiding the greater amounts of debris and destroyed ground. He felt annoyed that his sensors were made so strong, something many medics made use of in operations, it now clouded him- he could hear every noise, smell every chemical and every small detail of smoke and bright light, in truth, they were in overdrive, trying to distinct brick from smog. The medic could not even sense any possible danger past 300 feet, which only proved to scare him even more. 

Pipestream jumped, new sounds suddenly assaulted him, the strong sound of engines, round upon round of firepower, and they were drawing nearer. Plasma shots became chaotic, and Pipestream neared the edge of the alley, and tripped back as stray rounds made their way toward him, crumbling the side of the building mere feet from him, the rounds literally burned through the wall, and the older medic watched as a three-wheeled vehicle drew into sight, whipping around corners as fast as it could manage without toppling.

Then came the realization: he KNEW that shade of green. A jet fell into line right behind him, and it transformed, and Pipestream flinched at the mere appearance, at least 30 feet tall; a large, strong helmet that almost seemed cone-shaped. And the oddity of his appearance, aside from the obvious, was the glow of his optics… Red.

Shroud had transformed by now, aiming several rounds of inferior fire power at his attacker, only for them to deflect off his armor almost harmlessly, leaving the barest of dents. It was obvious weapons in this district did not match up to some of the more advanced artillery available on Cybertron.

It only made his attacker shriek in rage, Pipestream was still hidden behind the remains of the corner of the building. He felt his spark fluctuate in terror. Why was he failing to act?

The cone-helmeted Cybertronian _rammed_ headfirst into the smaller automaton, they collided to the ground in a flurry of limbs, both exchanged loud curses, insults, and blows, but it grew obvious Shroud was at the disadvantage by 12 feet and a plasma cannon.

Pipe stream's weapon systems came to life, and he raised his arm, pipes shifting into place. It was a weak weapon. Again, his spark protested the action. He remained in the same place, hidden from view, his sensors clouded over. Oh, how he wanted to shoot the seeker- but logic and self-preservation overrode it. If Shroud had such trouble against him, what was he, a medic that was less than half the height and 4 times the mass, STAND against the heavily armored jet?

He was a coward, and right now, he did not know what to do. He was no warrior.

A few more shots of Shroud's were aimed upward, sailing high into the air with the intervention of his attack, a clawed hand slamming the appendage to the ground, "Such an offending limb! You won't have it for long!" a growl of a voice screeched

Its clawed hand seized the gun arm at the wrist, already reformatted to a hand versus the weapon. Superior hydraulics crushing inferior armor plating, twisting servos out of place. Shroud gave insults in protest, but it was soon replaced by the bubbling, growling electronic shriek. No, it was a scream.

**To Continue. **

* * *

Author's Notes: (wheeeeee!) 

Yay! End of part one, and I'm already working on Part 2. For now, I give you an evil cliff-hanger. TWO Cameo appearances of canon characters. I'll leave you to figure out who, it shouldn't be hard to do for the first, at least. I hope I portrayed the second right, I love the G1 series, but I've barely seen any of it. So forgive me if he's off. He's violent, he likes charging into things, what more do ya' want?

I avoided referring to anyone as a Decepticon- After all, they are just now revealing themselves. I hope my OCs are convincing, at the least. I tried to flesh them out (not literally, of course) as best I could in this short bit. This is a story about some transformers who got caught in the war, I really want more characters around, after all, there are at least thousands, if not millions, of them

This could turn out long- I'm not sure... I have no clue where to stop it, but I have ideas. Toodle-oo. Helpful reviews are liked, I also like pointless reviews, too. So do whatever. This might be a story I work on for a long time, considering the stories laying half-finished from a year ago in my account... gah, now I hate those stories... I stunk at writing too much back then. This is more bearable.


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